Rivalry
by Sapphirianna
Summary: It was a normal day. Arthur seemed a little too on edge for Synthia, and she learns that a new transfer student is coming! Turns out, the Englishman knows him and a rivalry strikes up. And Synthia's the main focus! Rated T for Iggy's mouth. UKxOCxFR
1. Chapter 1

It was a normal day like any other. I was sitting in class like the studious girl I was, doodling in the corner of the paper as my classmates around me chatted excessively. I didn't really mind it all, mostly due to the fact that I had learned to tune out their voices long ago in freshman year. That was two years ago.

Most of them were gathered in their little cliques and groups of friends. All of them were talking in excited voices.

Well, everyone except Arthur Kirkland.

He sat in his seat next to me, silent, his outrageously bushy eyebrows twitching. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and certainly looked as irritable as always. Emerald eyes fixed on the notebook that rested in front of him, Arthur tapped his foot to some unheard beat. His messy mop of shaggy blonde hair moved along with him as he shook his head.

"What are you staring at, idiot?" A heavily accented voice drew me out of my thoughts. The Englishman next to me was scowling. Shoot, I had been staring at him, hadn't I?

"Ah! S-sorry." I stumbled over my words lamely as I turned away from Arthur. I didn't want him to think of me as another of his crazy fangirls. I wasn't. I might have thought him as cute one time in my life, well, more specifically, my freshman year when the Brit had transferred to my class from being home schooled in England. But that was done and over now.

Arthur snorted, scowling, and went back to whatever he had been doing earlier. It wasn't that he hated me. In fact, he was one of my few friends, just an irritable one at that. My other friends were also transfer students, well, most of them, anyway.

Kiku Honda was another friend of mine, a very unsocial dark haired otaku from Japan. He always carried some sort of manga or video game in his pocket. He was almost always overly polite and awkward around me. I found his behavior kind of cute, if I dare say so, but if he ever heard me, he would probably blush, stutter, and threaten to lock himself away for a few days (he's done that before). Needless to say, he didn't have many other friends.

Alfred was the loud one. A patriotic American to the bone, he rarely went a day without saying something about being the "hero" or something of the like. He nearly annoyed me to death, but I couldn't bear to leave him. He was such an overgrown puppy when he was sad with his short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and he seems to know exactly how to use the guilt card.

Then there's Feliciano, Lovino, and Ludwig. Feliciano was an airhead, to put it lightly. He was always saying something like "pasta" or "ve~". He had a twin brother who had slightly darker brown hair and eyes and definitely a sharper attitude. Lovino couldn't go a few minutes without swearing his head off. He personally seemed to hate me. Then there's Ludwig, a tough German blonde with muscles of steel and a commanding tone. He usually looked after the Vargas twins, Feliciano especially. Despite his rough attitude, Ludwig was actually a nice guy, often considerate, but nowhere near Arthur's gentlemanly behavior.

Arthur was probably the closest of my six friends. He was an irritable one, but his bad mood never truly lasted for too long, unless something was bugging him, of course. He always insisted on helping me out one way or another, claiming it as his responsibility as a gentleman. I think I might be the only one to actually see him smile though, according to the others' perception of him. I've only heard him laugh once, a melodious sound, if I do say so myself (much softer than Alfred's "Nyahahaha!").

I found myself surveying him once again, noticing the way that he had started to tap his foot faster.

"What's wrong, Iggy?" I suddenly inquired, using a nickname I had come up with in our sophomore year. Arthur scowled.

"Well, you heard that there was yet another transfer student, right?" You nodded, still confused as his frown deepened. "Well, he's-"

"Bonjour, mon cher." A distinctly French voice spoke out from behind me, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the stranger standing behind me.

"Go away, you bloody frog. She's not interested." His voice was sharp, sharper than normal, and his angry look transformed into one of severe disgust.

"Oh, Arthur. You are so cruel!" I finally turned my head to find a tall blonde standing over my desk. He had long, wavy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that reached sligtly above his shoulders and slight stubble graced his defined chin. He had deep ocean blue eyes that winked at me, sending an inexplicable chill running down my spine. He wore a white t-shirt with a design of a rose on the front and blue jeans with a few holes at the knees.

I glanced over at Arthur, who almost looked like a threatened cat. I could almost see his hair sticking up on his head (which was quite humorous) and he was glaring at the new student with eyes of hatred.

"The name is Francis Bonnefay," the Frenchman said, taking my hand and kissing it. By then, the entire class had quieted down and was watching us. My cheeks burned a tomato red as a few of the girls glared daggers at me.

"I-I'm S-Synthia Reese," I stuttered, tripping over my words as Francis gave me a winning smile.  
"It's a beautiful name, mon cher. Only if it were as gorgeous as you." He winked at me, causing my cheeks to burn red once again. "That blushing face is so cute!" he said, chuckling.

"That's quite enough if that, you bloody frog," Arthur hissed. I blinked in surprise as I hadn't noticed that he was now standing beside my desk, right across the Frenchman, nearly bristling.

"Artie! It's been so long!" Francis laughed. I glanced at each of them, confusion evident on my face.

"I wish it were longer. Four years isn't enough to forget your bloody face, you git," Iggy hissed (Iggy is short for England, another nickname Alfred had given him once the American had found out that he was English.) placing a hand on my desk. I blinked, confused. Francis only chuckled before turning back to me with another wink.

"I'll be sitting next to you from today onward, mon cher. I look forward to seeing that cute face every day." Then he left to talk with the teacher, who was typing deliberately on his keyboard.  
A hand landed on my shoulder and turned me so that I faced who it belonged to. Arthur bent down so that he was eye level with me. Something glinted in his eyes.

"Please, Synthia, for your own good, stay away from that frog, alright? He's bad news," Arthur spoke softly, and I could barely hear his voice in my ear over the noise that had erupted in the classroom once again. "Just, stay away from him as much as possible."

"O-okay?" I blushed slightly, a mixture of the embarrassment from earlier and the closeness of my best friend's face. Arthur pulled back, a concerned look flashing across his face.

"Are you alright, love?"

I shook my head.

"I'm alright, thank you," I said with a small laugh.

"Just heed my words, okay, Synthia?" He sat back down, looking more concerned than angry now.

And I went back to doodling in the corner of my paper, a light dusting of red still gracing my cheeks.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, this is my first Hetalia fanfiction. I'm a derp, just to let you know.

Just so you know when I do something stupid, okay? =w=

(That's bound to happen.)

Anyways, this is kinda short. I guess it couldv'e been shorter, but I expanded on it a bit.

...

I'm rambling.

That's what you get at 10:42 pm on a Sunday when I didn't get more than 5 hours of sleep the previous night.

Derp.

**DISCLAIMER**: If I owned Hetalia... _*starts daydreaming*_

_*/hit in the head with one of Iggy's scones*_

GAH!

Sorry, I don't own any of these characters except for Synthia. =w=


	2. Chapter 2

I was packing my book bag with my sketchbook and a few notebooks as I got ready to go home and had just closed my locker door when I sensed another's presence behind me. I turned my head to see Francis leaning against the next locker, watching me with curious blue eyes. A faint blush flared as I recalled the incident earlier

"Hello, Francis," I greeted him with a smile. "Are you liking your classes so far?"

A grin broke out on his face as he leaned in closer so that he was eye level with me (He was taller than me by a good five inches at least.).

"I still prefer my fourth period class over them all," he said, winking at me. That strange chill flew down my spine yet again. I covered it with a smile.

"Why would that be?"

He leaned even closer, that seductive smirk still curling the edges of his mouth upwards. He took my hand and kissed it once again, and that tomato red blush once again on my face.

"Oh, mon cher. That is because you are in my class." His voice was deep and sincere. I nearly dropped the books I had been carrying in my other hand. Francis grinned at me.

"Excuse me." An accented voice interrupted and a hand descended onto my shoulder, pulling me back. Arthur grabbed my bag from its place on the floor and pulled me along with him as he spoke. "Synthia has somewhere to be."

Francis's grin disintegrated into a frown for a moment before he smiled once again, waving at me.

"Alright, mon cher. I'll see you tomorrow then," he called after us, turning to walk the other way. I felt another tug on my wrist as Arthur dragged me around the corner.

"Iggy-" I began to question, but he stopped dead in his tracks, still facing away from me so I couldn't see his facial expression, and I bumped into him, mumbling an apology.

"Synthia." Arthur's voice was stern, and strained as if it was taking everything in him to keep from strangling someone. I blinked slowly, watching him with curious, if annoyed, chocolate brown eyes. He turned and faced me, his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth turned down into a disapproving frown.

"Arthur, why-"

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from him?" he said harshly, reprimanding me.

"Well, it's not like I asked him to be standing there." I replied sharply, frowning. "What's so bad about him anyways?"

"He is a bloody frog," he spat, his grip on your wrist tightening. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Iggy, me just being friendly doesn't have anything to do with your opinion of him." Silence followed as Arthur seemed to struggle with his emotions. Finally after a few moments, he gave me a pleading look.

"Just try to avoid him, okay? For me?"

Now that was odd. Arthur never asked you to do something for him. Let alone asking you to stay away from a harmless new classmate. Then he took your hand and held it awkwardly as one of his bushy eyebrows twitched. Something was up with him. He let go and turned his head away, scratching the back of his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it, quickly muttering a "never mind".

I could have sworn that he was blushing a little.

"Iggy? You're acting a little weird. Are you okay?" I watched him with concerned eyes. He was never like this. Maybe he was getting sick?

"Anyways, the six of us are heading to Alfred's to hang out. W-would you like to come?" he said, suddenly changing the subject.

I perked up, instantly forgetting my fountain of questions. I loved hanging out with the crew. It was always so much fun.

"Sure! Right now?"

He nodded, looking less flustered than before and his facial expression relaxing to his normal thoughtful frown.

"If you would like, I could escort you there?" His tone was soft, as if he were afraid that I was going to object. I grinned widely and relief flooded his emerald eyes.

"Of course, silly!" I laughed, lightly punching him in the arm. "You're such a gentleman." Arthur smiled, obviously accepting the complement, and extended his hand.

I hooked my arm with his with a grin, going along with him, and striking up a conversation about our English course and how I thought he might be able to help me with it.

I seriously could've sworn that I had seen a light dusting a red resting faintly on the Englishman's cheeks.

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter is so freaking short. =_= /author ish not happy with it. It is so derp.

Oh well. That's what I get for writing it throughout today when I should've been in school. (I was home sick today. =w=")

Pretty soon, I won't be able to update as quickly as I have been. So look forward to a new chapter every week. Hoping all goes well.

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I don't own Iggy or the Frog. _*is smacked with a rose*_ Sorry, I meant Frenchie. I do own Synthia, though.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur opened his car door to unlock the passenger side.

"No, let me," he said, stopping me as I reached for the handle. I watched as he walked around the front of his small green car. "My lady."

A shiver ran down my spine in a momentary rush as his hand brushed against mine as he pulled the car door open. I gave him a smile of thanks. I've learned to just go along with the stubborn Englishman long ago.

If he wanted to be a gentleman to me then he darn well wouldn't let me stop him, or anyone else, for that matter. He was hard set on doing things properly and traditionally.

I slid into the seat and he gently closed the door behind me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the side mirror. My dark chestnut brown hair was a frizzy mess. Frowning, I dug around in my shoulder bag for the comb I was absolutely certain I had thrown in there that morning. With a short snort of triumph, I pulled out a small navy blue comb and began to brush my hair.

A chuckle sounded beside me and a hand reached over and patted my head.

"You look fine, love," Arthur announced. "Stop fussing. You always fuss over your hair."

"Well, that's because my hair is always a disaster," I returned with a half-hearted giggle. He rolled his eyes and smiled softly.

"It is not. If you want a disaster," Arthur smirked, "look at mine." He pointed to his own shaggy mop of honey-gold hair. I laughed and punched his shoulder lightly.

"I wouldn't want it any other way, silly," I giggled, "It suits you."

Arthur turned his head to the steering wheel again. There was that ghost of a blush again.

"L-let's get going. We'll be late at this rate," he stuttered, his mesmerizing green eyes flicking between me and the wheel he had clutched in his grip. I nodded, putting my comb back in my bag as he fired up the car.

* * *

"Ciao! Synthia!" A heavy weight crashed into me as I was smothered in a very strong embrace. I managed to wriggle into a better position to breathe in the almost bone crushing grip.

"Hey, Feli!" I grinned, pushing the overly clingy Italian off of me. "Let go! I can't breathe!"

Feliciano released me with a somewhat crestfallen "veh~", but took a step back, barely making it out of my personal space. No sooner had I sucked in a grateful lungful of fresh air, a hand slammed into my back, knocking it clear out of me, leaving me in a coughing fit.

"NYAHAHAHA! Yo! Synthia! Glad you could make it!" Alfred's obnoxious voice sounded behind me and the blonde laughed loudly. By then, Arthur had walked over to me and patted my shoulder as if to ask if I was alright. I nodded, coughing.

"Really, Alfred. You nearly knocked Synthia over!" Arthur reprimanded the teen. Alfred just laughed and grinned.

"Don't worry, dude! The hero would've caught her!" Al burst out laughing again and his hand collided solidly with Arthur's backside, throwing the poor teen to his knees.

"Konichiwa, Synthia-san, Arthur-san." I looked up to see Kiku standing in the doorway. He wore light tan shorts and a white t-shirt with a red circle on his left shoulder. I grinned and waved at the dark haired boy who smiled slightly and waved back.

I turned back to the other three still standing on Alfred's lawn with me. Al wore a blue shirt with a Superman logo on the front and a pair of faded, worn down denim jeans. Iggy wore a shirt that looked as if it had been made out of a Union Jack and a pair of dark brown shorts. Feliciano donned a white shirt with a large tomato decal on the front and a pair of olive green shorts.

"I like your shirt, Synthia," the Italian said with a goofy smile. I momentarily glanced down at my tricolored t-shirt. It was a dark purple with black and navy stripes. I returned his smile.

"Thanks, Feli."

"C'mon dudes! I've got hamburgers and a wicked new game inside!" Alfred gave another of his hyper, jarring barrages of laughter as he grabbed Arthur's forearm.

"Unhand me, you bloody wanker!"

"NYAHAHAHAHA!"

I chuckled as I watched the unlikely duo enter the building, Alfred laughing his head off as Arthur swore off his.

"Synthia, let's-a go!" Feliciano tugged on my sleeve, the one curl of light chestnut hair that always stuck out bouncing as he walked away, pulling me behind him. I just shrugged and let him drag me into the house.

* * *

"Yo, dudes! Check this out!"

Alfred's laughter came from the living room. Arthur gave an exasperated sigh and leaned against the wall of the kitchen. I was rooting through Al's refrigerator, looking for a normal drink among the energy drinks and highly caffeinated sodas filling it. I stood up with a sigh.

"Good grief," I muttered. "I know it is Al, but, geez, doesn't he have any filtered water or something?" Despite often perceptions of me, I was rather picky about the food and drinks I consumed. Al's perception of "food" was my version of "junk".

Arthur chuckled softly. "I've got some water bottles and tea in the car. Would you like me to get them?"

My eyes lit up.

"Really? Thank you, Iggy!" I smiled widely as one of his bushy eyebrows twitched at the nickname.

"I'll be right back, love," the blonde said with a small smile. I watched him leave and closed the fridge door.

I loved Arthur's tea. He always made it sweet, but also slightly bitter. I might not enjoy the teen's cooking, but his tea was wonderful.

"Could you open the cupboards and look for some teacups?" Arthur's voice broke me out of my stupor.

"Oh, sure."

"I know Alfred has some. I gave him a set last semester after Christmas break-"

"Ah! Found them!" I called, pulling out a tray with two cups and saucers sitting daintily upon it. "Though they look a little dusty. I'll wash them real quick."

I stole a glance at my friend as he muttered something about Al's cleaning habits. When I finished, Al called again and Arthur waved me away.

"Go ahead, I'll call you when the tea's done, love."

"Alright, if you say so."

"Yo! Synthia! You've got to see this! Kiku is totally kicking Feliciano's butt!"

I chuckled, waving and exiting the kitchen, Arthur's vivid emerald eyes following my every movement.

* * *

When I walked into the living room, I was met with a curious sight. They had broken out the X-box 360™ and were going at it. I raised an eyebrow at the TV screen, which displayed the racing game they were playing.

Lovino had apparently yanked the controller from his crying twin brother and was swearing like a sailor at the pixels on screen as Kiku leaned forward on the couch, obviously concentrating all his attention to the game. Ludwig was sitting cross-legged on the floor, comforting the upset Italian, and Alfred sat in the middle of the fraying tan couch, cheering for no one in particular.

I sauntered over to sit on the armrest beside Kiku, who seemed to be in the lead. By a very large margin.

"Hello, Synthia-chan." He greeted me with a nod of his head.

A crashing sound interrupted the music for a moment, promptly followed by a string of obscenities in Italian.

A brief smile crossed Kikiu's rather expressionless face as "winner!" flashed across the screen. He turned to me after giving Lovino, who was sitting on the floor in front of Alfred, a "better-luck-next-time" pat on the shoulder.

"Would you like to play, Synthia-chan?"

"No thanks," I reply with a laugh. "I suck at games like this."

"Synthia?" Arthur popped his head in from the kitchen. "Do you want your usual?"

I sat up straighter, nodding feverishly.

"Alright, I'll bring it out in a bit."

"Thanks, Iggy!"

"It's just tea," he muttered to himself grumpily, adding quietly, "and don't call me that. It's embarrassing." I chuckled. He was so predictable.

"I call the next round!" Al shouted, snatching the controller from the still seething Italian. "Yo, Kiku! I'm gonna make you kiss my dust!"

And expression rarely seen on the Japanese teen's face slithered across his features. He smirked.

"Good luck, Alfred-kun."

Shaking my head, I raised an eyebrow at them. Despite popular belief, Kiku could be dangerously competitive when it came to video games. He and Alfred made quite the gaming pair.

"Hey, Al?"

"Yeah?" Al smashed a button as he replied.

"Has your garden out back that we planted a while ago still there?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so." Another crash sound signaled a shout from Alfred.

"M'kay, thanks Al!" I said, stretching. Stepping over a muttering Lovino, I returned to the kitchen, nearly bumping into a slightly disgruntled Englishman.

"Iggy! Sorry-"

"No, it's alright," he interjected, cutting me off before I made a fool out of myself apologizing for almost spilling the tea onto his shirt.

"Um, would you like to have tea out on the porch? I want to see how Al's garden is doing."

"Sure."

"Would you like me to carry that?" I questioned, pointing to the tray. Arthur only shook his head of blond hair.

"It's my job, you idiot," he huffed, pulling the tray closer to himself like a child unwilling to share.

"Alright, alright!" I giggled. "Gentleman's pride. I got it. No need to be so touchy."

His frown softened as I laughed.

"C'mon, grumpy-pants. Let's go before Al suddenly decides it's our turn to play." I wiggled around him and opened the door to the back porch for him.

"I agree with you on that, love," Arthur groaned, following me into the sunlight.

* * *

**A/N: OMG I AM SO SORRY GUYS.**

**You may have me publicly flogged for having you guys wait so long for this chapter! I feel so bad about it. I'm sorry. Really, I am. It's just that I've suddenly gotten so busy recently **** that I've had no time. I've also forgotten that this story even existed. Not that I hadn't had this chapter written! I wrote this right after chapter two, but I was just too lazy to type it up.**

**Go ahead, hit me now for my laziness.**

**/hit in the head with England's scones.**

**ONWARDS~!**

**If I owned Hetalia... England would be able to actually cook-**

**/smacked with scone again.**

**England: ARE YOU SAYING I CAN'T COOK?**

**Oh, you were listening? ...oh...uh...**

**/hit for the third time, only with a rose.**

**WHAT THE CRAP, FRANCE-**

**France: Ohonhonhonhon~**

**Ugh, anyways, review and enjoy this long overdue chapter~!**


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